


the ocean in her eyes

by imadetheline



Category: Original Work
Genre: First Person, Other, over time, prose, relationship, the ocean personified
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:28:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadetheline/pseuds/imadetheline
Summary: She has a name. No one knows it. But we all know she isn’t human.
Relationships: you/the ocean
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	the ocean in her eyes

**Author's Note:**

> was thinking about the ocean recently and also how I want a significant other so I wrote a short original piece about falling in love with the ocean lol.

She’s not the same.

Not to say she was ever any different. She’s always been not the same. No one understands why.

Everyone in this little town is the same. And she’s not.

She hasn’t always been here. But I think she has. I think she’s been here longer than us. I think time is different for her.

<<<>>>

One day she wasn’t there and the next she was. No one dared say anything. You don’t question her. Not about where she came from.

She keeps to herself, barely speaks. Maybe because it seems to enthrall anyone listening. It’s a kind of effortless power. 

She has a name. No one knows it. But we all know she isn’t human.

She floats through the town, sometimes she attends the school or the church or walks down the streets. No one stops her. On rare occasions, she’ll simply stand out in the wide fields around the town and stare upwards. No one dares approach her those days. She stands still as a statue and looks to the sun, and then to the moon, as if she talks to them, as if she misses them.

Her skin is dark as night. Her voice is deeper and somehow lighter than anything I’ve ever heard. Her hair is a cascading fall of blues. No one knows where she stays or where she goes but somehow each day she returns wearing dresses of seafoam green or midnight black or deep blue, always flowing and long, never out of place. I dare not try to describe her eyes, her knowing, piercing, beautiful eyes.

Everyone’s terrified of her. And a little bit in love with her. But I’m a lot in love with her.

I follow her when I can, talk to her when I’m brave enough. I don’t think she minds most of the time. Everyone’s just too intimidated to try.

But she says the most interesting things. We walk and she points to the stars and her fingers don’t block their light. It shines right through her dark skin as if it’s translucent, and none of the light is lost. I try but my humanness gets in the way, the rays stopped by my flesh. But then she spreads my fingers and tells me to look through the cracks instead. She gestures to the stars and tells me we are different but we can both see and appreciate their light, and that’s all that matters. I believe her.

And she listens, more than anyone I’ve ever known. I think she likes to listen. Her eyes shift with my words but I know she hears them. She hears and understands.

<<<>>>

Her skin is cold under my fingers and her lips taste like seawater. She makes me want to cry when we kiss. I love her.

She is sad and angry and I know her name.

<<<>>>

The town grows. The fields are gone. The buildings are taller. She doesn’t age. She never loses her grace. She stays ever young while my body deteriorates. 

She spends less time with me. I miss her dearly. 

I like to think she misses me but I do not know if she is capable of love. She lets me love her and that is enough for me.

<<<>>>

One day she leads me to the cliffs. The sea is rough but not angry. I know her moods. The waves crashing against the rocks with a haunting wail is sadness, not anger. Have I not seen it in her eyes?

I know what she will say: she cannot stay any longer. She has already been away too long. I see the ocean in her eyes escaping onto her cheeks. This form will not contain her for long.

But she offers her hand and an eternity of her. She warns me that she will forget me. It is her curse. The water washes bones clean and buries them under sand and the layers of memory. There is too much and she is too old to remember everything. But it is the destiny of everything to be forgotten. At least I will spend eternity with her.

She wraps her arms around me and I kiss her roughly, seawater indistinguishable from my tears. I do not think of myself so highly as to think she would cry over me. 

We tip over the edge and she whispers in my ear. It is nothing but the sound of waves and wind. 

I am not the first person to be held in her arms, nor will I be the last.

But as she kisses me, filling my lungs, I do not mind. Being forgotten is inevitable. She is inevitable. The ocean will take all eventually.

<<<>>>

The ocean caresses those bones for centuries. Others join them. But somehow these never slip below the sand as the ocean stops to brush by them, currents swirling. For maybe being loved is being remembered. And the ocean loved, loved as only the ocean can, with stars and memory and darkness.

Leave the bones undisturbed so that the ocean may remember love, lest she forgets how to, and consumes the world in search of its memory.

**Author's Note:**

> info about me and links to my tumblrs [here](https://infoabtmaddie.carrd.co/#)


End file.
